Chapter 66: The Thank You
The memory of Monday was a physical ache, a phantom weight still clinging to his shoulders. Ken stepped into the Fah Rung lobby on Tuesday morning wearing the same charcoal suit, the cartoon bee tie knotted perfectly at his throat. Each thread felt like a chain link. The dread was a cold, heavy stone in his gut. He could not endure another day of blurred spreadsheets, of Gerald’s contempt, of his own pathetic sobbing in a white hallway. He moved through the polished marble space like a ghost, his eyes downcast, already flinching from the day’s first interaction.
“Ken. A moment.”
The voice was polite, crisp. Hana, the secretary for the main meeting room, stood from his desk near the central elevator bank. He held a plain, cream-colored envelope. He extended it with a small, professional smile. “This was left for you. From Masters Boom and Kla.”
Ken’s heart stuttered. He took the envelope, his fingers clumsy. It was heavier than paper should be. He ripped it open.
A single cardstock slip. Typed, not printed. The words were a bolt of lightning to his nervous system.
EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY, YOUR UNIFORM IS RESCINDED. RETURN TO TRANSPARENT PROTOCOL.
He read it. Then again. The stone of dread vaporized.
A sound, half-gasp, half-laugh, burst from him. His hands flew to his throat, clawing at the stupid, smirking tie. He yanked the knot loose, the silk slithering away, and dropped it to the floor. The jacket was next. He shoved it off his shoulders, letting it fall in a heap on the marble. His fingers trembled on the shirt buttons, popping them open one by one, then he tore the shirt apart, sending a button pinging against a potted plant. He toed off his shoes, peeled off his socks, unfastened the belt and trousers and let them pool around his ankles. He stepped out of the puddle of expensive wool, kicking the clothes aside.
He stood naked in the vast, echoing lobby.
The morning light streamed through the glass walls, warm on his skin. The conditioned air kissed his bare flesh. He was exposed, utterly. And as the reality settled, his cock, which had been shriveled and helpless within the confines of his trousers, began to stir. It thickened, lifting, filling with a hot rush of blood until it stood fully erect, curving up against his stomach. A drop of pre-cum beaded at the slit.
A security guard by the main doors, an older man with a stern face, watched the entire performance. He gave a single, slow, approving nod. It wasn’t leering. It was an acknowledgment of order restored.
The weight was gone. The suffocation was gone. In its place was a surge of pure, dizzying relief that burned into arousal. His spine straightened. His shoulders dropped. He took a deep, clean breath.
Hana, having observed the transformation with calm neutrality, spoke again. “They are in the executive office. You should go and thank them properly.” His tone held a slight, knowing emphasis on the final word.
“Yes, master. Thank you,” Ken said, his voice clear and strong. He left the pile of clothes on the lobby floor—someone from Facilities would handle it—and walked toward the private elevator that served the upper executive floors. His bare feet were silent on the stone. His hard cock bobbed with each confident step. Heads turned, but the looks were different now: recognition, interest, approval. He was Ken again. Transparent. Essential.
The elevator ascended. He watched the numbers climb, his reflection a pale, nude blur in the bronze doors. He was already falling into the protocol, the mindset. Hands behind head. Kneeling. Crawling. Service.
The doors opened directly into the antechamber of the executive office. He dropped to his knees without breaking stride, his knees hitting the plush carpet. He locked his hands behind his head, spreading his elbows, arching his back slightly to present his chest and his hard-on. The posture was a homecoming.
He heard the soft click of a door opening.
“Ah. There he is.” Boom’s voice. “The genuine article.”
Ken didn’t look up. He began to crawl forward, the carpet fibers soft against his knees and palms. He crossed the antechamber to the open office door. Boom and Kla were inside, standing near the massive glass desk that overlooked the city. Ken crossed the threshold, crawled to Boom’s feet, and pressed his forehead to the polished toe of his leather shoe. He then did the same for Kla. He backed up just enough to resume a kneeling position, hands still locked behind his head, his cock jutting out rigidly.
“Master Boom, Master Kla,” he said, his voice steady and filled with a gratitude that ran deeper than words. “Ken is ready for service. Thank you for restoring my true uniform.”
Kla walked to the desk and opened a drawer. He returned with the collar—a simple, black leather band—and the attached chain. The metal links chimed softly. He held it up.
Boom circled Ken’s kneeling form. “A proper thank you requires more than words, don’t you think?” He ran a hand through Ken’s hair, then gripped it, not painfully, but possessively. “We had to pull significant strings to override HR on this. The weekly lottery is sacred. But for you… we made an exception.”
“Your performance yesterday was a compelling data point,” Kla stated coldly, fitting the collar around Ken’s throat. The buckle clicked shut, snug and firm. “Clothed, you are dysfunctional. A liability. Transparent, you are optimal.” He clipped the chain to the ring at the front. “The conclusion was evident.”
Kla gave the chain a gentle tug. It was a command. Ken followed the pressure, crawling closer as Kla sat back in the tall executive chair. Kla unfastened his own trousers, pulling out his cock. It was already thick and hard, the head flushed dark. He didn’t stroke it. He just held it, presenting it.
“Show your gratitude,” Boom said from behind. He was unzipping his own fly.
Ken’s mouth watered. He lunged forward without hesitation, taking Kla’s length into his mouth. He swirled his tongue around the glans, tasting the salty pre-cum, before sinking down, taking him deep into his throat. He breathed through his nose, relaxing his jaw, as his eyes watered.
Behind him, Boom spat onto his fingers. Ken felt the wet, hot spit land directly on his asshole. A thick finger rubbed the tight ring of muscle, not preparing, just claiming. Then it was replaced by the blunt, insistent head of Boom’s cock.
“That’s it,” Boom grunted, and pushed forward.
The burn was sharp, exquisite. Ken moaned around Kla’s shaft, the vibration earning a low hiss from the man in the chair. Boom sheathed himself in one slow, relentless thrust, until his hips were pressed flush against Ken’s ass. He was deep, so deep, stretching him open.
“Fuck, he’s tight,” Boom gasped, his hands clamping onto Ken’s hips. “Eager little hole, though. Isn’t it?”
Kla gripped the chain close to the collar and used it to pull Ken’s head forward, fucking up into his mouth. “Suck it. Properly.”
They set a rhythm, brutal and perfect. Boom pistoned into his ass, each thrust slamming Ken forward onto Kla’s cock. Kla pulled the chain, controlling the pace of his face-fucking. Ken was a conduit between them, spit and sweat dripping down his chin, his own untouched cock leaking a steady stream onto the expensive carpet beneath him. The sounds were obscene: wet, gagging gulps, the sharp slap of skin on skin, Boom’s ragged grunts, Kla’s controlled, sharp breaths.
“Look at this whore,” Boom panted, his thrusts growing harder, faster. “Our fucking backbone. You need this, don’t you? You need our cocks in you to function.”
Ken couldn’t speak. He could only groan, a desperate, affirming sound around the dick filling his throat. He did need it. This was the clarity. This was the purpose. The suit had been chaos. This, being spit-roasted between his masters, was perfect order.
Kla’s calm broke. His hips stuttered. “I’m going to come,” he announced, his voice tight. He thrust up hard, holding Ken’s head down, and Ken felt the hot, pulsating jet of cum hit the back of his throat. He swallowed convulsively, greedily, taking every drop as Kla shuddered through his orgasm.
The moment Kla finished, Boom lost his rhythm. He slammed into Ken’s ass with three final, brutal strokes, his body going rigid. “Take it, you fucking transparent slut,” he growled, and Ken felt the hot flood fill his insides as Boom came with a long, guttural moan.
They held him there for a moment, both spent, both buried inside him. Then Boom pulled out, his softening cock dragging out of Ken’s well-used hole, followed by a trickle of cum that dripped down Ken’s thigh. Kla withdrew from his mouth with a soft, wet pop.
Ken remained kneeling, trembling, his own cock still achingly hard and untouched. He swallowed the last of Kla’s spend, licked his swollen lips. He looked up at them, his vision blurry with tears of effort and relief.
“Thank you, Masters,” he whispered, his voice wrecked.
Boom patted his cheek, the touch almost affectionate. “Good boy.” He looked down at Ken’s spent, trembling form, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “So tell us, Ken. Honestly. How do you feel right now?”
Ken lifted his head, a radiant, grateful smile breaking through his tear-streaked, fucked-out expression. His eyes shone with a disturbing clarity. “I feel… perfect, Masters. I am so proud. So proud to be used like this, to be your solution.” His voice gained strength, filled with a perverse joy. “And I’m so very happy that the people using me… are my best friends. It makes it mean more.”
Kla, slowly tucking his softening cock back into his trousers, raised an eyebrow. A cold, curious smile touched his lips. “Are you now? That’s interesting.” He glanced at Boom, a silent communication passing between them. “Such enthusiasm deserves reinforcement. Would you like a second round, Ken? More gratitude to express?”
Ken’s hard cock, which had never flagged, twitched eagerly against his stomach. “Yes, Masters,” he replied cheerfully, without a hint of hesitation. “Please. I want to serve.”
“Excellent,” Boom said. Then he snapped his fingers sharply, the sound cracking through the office’s quiet hum.
The change was instantaneous.
The placid, servile devotion drained from Ken’s face like water from a shattered bowl. His eyes, wide and clear, darted around the room, then down at his own naked body. He saw the carpet indents under his knees, the glistening spend on his thighs, the rigid, shameful erection curving up from his groin. A choked, disbelieving gasp lodged in his throat.
He scrambled back on all fours, his arms coming up to cross over his chest, a futile attempt to cover himself. His muscles wouldn’t obey correctly; his movements were jerky, uncoordinated. He was panting, hyperventilating.
“Wh… why are you… Boom? Kla?” he stammered, his voice a high, nervous wreck of its former steady tone. He looked at them, his former peers, now fully dressed and composed behind the desk, while he was splayed naked on the floor. “What’s happening? Why am I—?”
The humiliation ignited, a white-hot wildfire across his skin. He tried to curl in on himself, to hide his cock, but his body remained stubbornly, traitorously exposed, his erection throbbing with an arousal his mind violently rejected. A sob ripped from him. “Don’t look at me! Please, don’t look!”
Kla’s smirk was a clinical thing. “Lie on your back,” he commanded, his voice devoid of all warmth. “Knees spread. Up. Now.”
“No!” Ken cried out, horrified. But his body moved. It was a terrible, puppeteered motion. He fell onto his back, his legs lifting and falling open, his knees bending and spreading wide apart. The position was vulgarly comprehensive, putting every part of him on brutal display: his leaking, hard cock, his tight sac, and the wet, used hole between his ass cheeks, still glistening with Boom’s cum. “Stop it! Make it stop!” he pleaded, tears streaming down his temples into his hair.
Boom walked around the desk and stood over him, looking down at the wrecked, weeping man. He crouched, his voice deceptively light. “So. Let’s ask again, now that you’re yourself. Do you want that second round, Ken?”
“I don’t want it! I don’t want any of this!” Ken wailed, his hands clawing at the carpet. “Please, have mercy, just let me go, let me cover up—”
His plea was severed as his own hands, betraying him completely, shot down between his legs. They grabbed his buttocks, his fingers digging into his own flesh, and wrenched his cheeks apart. The action was violent, efficient, pulling his asshole open, exposing the pink, tender interior, still loose and wet from the previous fucking. It was a blatant, silent invitation.
“Oh, look at that,” Boom chuckled, leaning closer. “Your body seems to disagree. It’s inviting us in.”
“Our best and most brilliant friend,” Kla added, coming to stand opposite Boom, “is literally holding himself open for us. How can we refuse such a clear request?”
“It’s not a request! I’m not asking!” Ken screamed, his body trembling violently, his hands locked in place, maintaining the humiliating exposure. “My hands, I can’t—! Stop, please, you have to stop!”
Kla tilted his head, feigning sympathy. “But you see, Ken, there’s a protocol breach. When you came to your ‘usual sense,’ you stopped using our titles. We are CEOs. You failed to call us ‘Master.’” He unzipped his trousers again, his cock already half-hard from the spectacle. “So consider this a corrective measure. Punishment from your best friends.”
Boom was already out, hard again, and he didn’t bother with spit. He aimed and shoved forward, burying his cock back into the tight, protesting heat with a single brutal thrust.
Ken’s scream was a raw, shattered thing of pure terror and shock. His back arched off the carpet, not in pleasure but in a visceral recoil from the violation. His mind was a storm of panic, screaming no no no, but his traitorous body, under their complete control, merely held itself open, taking it.
Kla guided his cock to Ken’s mouth. “Open,” he said, and Ken’s jaw went slack, obedient. Kla pushed in, fucking into his sobbing mouth, cutting off his cries.
They fucked him hard. This was nothing like the earlier, rhythmic service. This was punitive, chaotic, and deep. Boom’s hips hammered against his spread thighs, each impact jolting his whole body. Kla gripped his hair, holding his head still for the relentless throat-fucking. Ken could only make guttural, choking sounds around the intrusion, his tears a constant stream, his vision blurring. His own cock, a detached betrayer, remained achingly erect, bobbing with each brutal slam from Boom.
The sounds were of violence: skin slapping, muffled gagging, low grunts of effort from the two men, and the high, helpless keening that escaped Ken whenever Kla pulled back far enough to let him breathe for a second. The office air, once scented of leather and power, now smelled of sweat, sex, and salt.
Boom’s pace became erratic, his control slipping. “Take your punishment, you arrogant fuck,” he snarled, each word a hammer blow. “You thought you were better than us. Now you’re just our fucking fleshlight.”
He came with a roar, pumping another hot load deep into Ken’s ass. The sensation, internal and unwanted, triggered a fresh wave of sobs.
Kla followed moments later, pulling Ken’s head forward by the hair as he emptied himself down his throat. Ken choked, convulsively swallowing, his body heaving with the aftershocks of violation.
They withdrew. Ken’s hands finally released their grip on his ass, falling limp to the carpet. He lay there, ruined, a mess of tears and fluids, his mind shattered against the reality of what had just happened. He stared at the ceiling, his chest hitching, unable to form a coherent thought beyond the echoing, paralyzing shock.
He stared at the ceiling, his chest hitching, unable to form a coherent thought beyond the echoing, paralyzing shock. The sensation of their cum inside him—one load leaking from his ass, the other coating his stomach—felt like a toxic, permanent stain. A high, thin whine escaped his clenched teeth as the full force of memory crashed down: the lobby, the suit, the grateful kneeling, the eager sucking, and then this… this violent theft of his own body.
He rolled onto his side, curling into a fetal position, his hands scrabbling to cover his groin but finding only wet, violated skin. The sobs came then, great heaving convulsions that wracked his frame. They were not the relieved tears from the coffee shop or the frustrated cries from Procurement. This was a raw, fundamental grief, the sound of a psyche cracking.
“Why?” he choked out, the word mangled by phlegm and despair. He lifted his tear-blurred vision to where they stood, calmly re-dressing. “Boom… Kla… why are you doing this to me?” His voice broke into a whisper. “We were… we were best friends.”
Boom finished zipping his trousers, his expression one of mild contemplation. Kla adjusted his cufflinks, his severe features impassive.
“Exactly,” Boom said, his tone conversational, as if discussing a quarterly report. “You were our best friend. Our brilliant, untouchable best friend. And now?” He gestured at Ken’s shivering, naked form on the floor. “Now you’re our most essential resource. It’s a promotion, Ken. The best version of you serves the best version of us.”
Kla nodded, taking a sip of water from a crystal glass on the desk. “Your distress is a transient data point. A glitch in the transition. You are worrying over a shadow.” His cold eyes pinned Ken. “Each time we switch you back to this… usual self… the emotional resonance will fade. The hold this persona has on you will degrade. The renewed sense—the one that understands service, transparency, and gratitude—is becoming your baseline. This…” He waved a hand dismissively at Ken’s weeping, “…is just residual noise. It will be silenced.”
The clinical explanation was more terrifying than any shouted insult. It spoke of erosion, of a self being systematically deleted.
“No,” Ken begged, pushing himself up on trembling arms. “Don’t. Please, both of you, my best friends, don’t do this. Just stop. Let me be… let me be me again. The old me. Before any of this.”
Boom sighed, a performative sound of regret. He walked over and crouched, his face close to Ken’s. “But that guy’s gone, Ken. He was arrogant. He was a problem. He had to be solved.” A genuine, terrible fondness flickered in Boom’s eyes. “Goodbye, usual Ken. We’ll see you soon. Or, well… he won’t.”
He snapped his fingers.
The sound was a guillotine blade dropping.
Ken’s shuddering ceased instantly. The torrent of tears stopped as if a valve had been shut. He blinked, his eyes clearing of confusion and pain, replaced by a placid, alert emptiness. He looked at Boom, then at Kla, his head tilting like a puzzled dog.
Then, recognition bloomed into a radiant, uncomplicated smile.
“Master Boom! Master Kla!” he said, his voice bright and cheerful. He shook his head slightly. “I… I felt like I lost my consciousness for a moment. I apologize deeply for any lapse.” He immediately moved, crawling to their feet with practiced grace, pressing his forehead to the floor. “I am sorry, Masters.”
Boom smiled, exchanging a look of profound satisfaction with Kla. “No harm done. You’re back with us. That’s what matters.” He tapped his chin. “Now, we were in the middle of something. Would you like to continue your service? A second round, to properly express your gratitude for having your uniform restored?”
Ken’s face lit up with pure, eager joy. He shuffled back onto his knees, hands going behind his head, his back arching proudly. “Yes, Masters! I would be honored. I am so very proud… so very proud to be used by you.” His grin widened, a childlike glee in his eyes. “It means so much more that it’s you. My best friends. My CEOs.”
Without being asked, he then leaned forward, bracing his hands on the carpet. He reached back with both hands, his fingers digging into the cheeks of his ass, and pulled them apart with a confident, presenting flourish. The hole, reddened and glistening from the previous violations, was offered openly.
“Master Boom, Master Kla,” Ken announced, his voice steady and proud. “Ken is ready to be used.”
Boom and Kla shared a final, triumphant smirk. They undid their flies once more, their cocks already hard from the spectacle and the power. To Ken, smiling happily with his ass spread wide, this felt like the beginning of a cherished second round. To the men stepping forward, it was the seamless, delicious commencement of the third.
Boom positioned himself behind. He spat into his palm, slicking his length, and guided the head to Ken’s exposed entrance. “Such a good, open hole for us,” he murmured.
“The best,” Ken sighed in anticipation, pushing back eagerly.
Boom thrust in, a smooth, deep penetration into the willing, relaxed heat. Ken moaned, a sound of perfect contentment, and pushed back to meet him. Kla stepped in front, feeding his cock into Ken’s waiting, smiling mouth. Ken sucked him down expertly, his tongue swirling, his throat working open without a single gag.
The rhythm they established was possessive and deep. Boom fucked into his ass with long, claiming strokes, his balls slapping against Ken’s perineum. Kla held the base of his cock, controlling the pace of the face-fucking, watching himself disappear between Ken’s willing lips. The office filled with the wet, slick sounds of penetrative sex, of hungry sucking, of low groans and happy, muffled moans.
“You love this, don’t you?” Boom grunted, picking up speed, his grip bruising on Ken’s hips.
Ken managed a desperate, affirmative nod around Kla’s shaft, his eyes sliding shut in bliss. He was engulfed, used, and complete. His own cock, hard and neglected, leaked a steady stream of pre-cum onto the carpet, a testament to a pleasure that required no touch.
“He’s perfection like this,” Kla stated, his breath catching as he fucked deeper into Ken’s throat. “An optimal state.”
Boom’s climax built quickly, fueled by the absolute compliance. “Gonna fill you up again, you perfect slut,” he growled, his hips stuttering. He slammed home and held, his body rigid as he pumped another hot, thick load into Ken’s ass.
The pulsing heat inside him triggered Ken’s own orgasm. His untouched cock jerked violently, spilling his seed onto the floor in helpless, silent ropes, his body convulsing around Boom’s embedded cock.
The sensation made Kla curse. He tugged Ken’s head forward by the hair and came, jets of cum hitting the back of his throat. Ken swallowed diligently, milking him with his throat muscles until he was soft.
They pulled out. Ken remained on his hands and knees, breathing heavily, a thread of saliva and cum connecting his lips to Kla’s softening dick. He was smiling, dazed and fulfilled.
“Thank you, Masters,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with use. “Thank you for my second round.”
Boom patted his head. “Clean yourself up in the ensuite. You have the rest of the day to serve the other departments.” He glanced at the wet spot on the carpet, the proof of Ken’s untouched orgasm. “And report to Facilities for carpet cleaning detail. Your mess, your responsibility.”
Ken’s smile never wavered. “Yes, Master. Right away.” He crawled a few feet toward the private bathroom before getting to his feet, his body moving with a sated, loose-limbed grace. He was transparent. He was used. He was grateful.
The door to the executive office closed softly behind him, leaving Boom and Kla in the quiet, sunlit room. The only sounds were the city below and the soft, final click of Kla’s cufflinks.